A New Cause
by GenvieveWoolf
Summary: Jim and Judy have to learn to navigate life all over again after the events of RWaC. Some things seem to be getting better, but now they have loss to deal with on top of everything else. Maybe a new friend can help. (Might have more chapters. Jim/Judy, OC. K plus for serious themes)
1. Tommy

_Could have more chapters if anyone shows interest; I've been extremely busy lately (ergo the lack of work on other stories!) but I might find time._

 _Takes place post-movie, so don't read before you've actually watched it._

* * *

His parents had kept him home from school the day after everything happened. Jim wished they hadn't—it just made things harder. Still, he could see things starting to change at home. His dad was really trying now. Trying to hold his own in the conversations Jim overheard when he was pretending to be asleep. Conversations about Jim and school and _not_ moving and Judy and... Plato.

Jim half expected to see that dark, curly-haired face when he closed his locker. He knew everyone was watching him and thinking about Plato, the kid the cops had shot. Shot because they saw him carrying an empty gun.

 _"Hey, I got the bullets!"_

Jim closed his eyes and leaned on his locker a moment. Just a moment; then he could face all those classmates and teachers and other people who would never understand.

He felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Judy beside him. "Hi," he said.

"Hi."

"You didn't wait for me this morning." He wasn't angry - not now that he could see her.

"I woke up early and... didn't want to hang around."

He nodded. He hated waiting, especially for things he didn't want to do anyway. He took her hand and they walked to class together.

One of the kids moved away from his desk beside Jim's when they entered the classroom. Again, Jim wasn't angry. He knew he wasn't being shunned—the kid was giving up his desk for Judy.

They couldn't be together in every class, of course. A few people hadn't heard the details of the story yet; a few didn't know how badly he and Judy needed to be together. They also had separate P.E. and health and fitness classes, and Judy had Home Economics while Jim had Wood Shop. At first it seemed impossible to get through a class without her, but midway through P. E. he started to realize he was going to make it all right.

When he actually looked around at the other kids jogging on the small school track, he thought about how their lives might be very similar or different. You couldn't tell much by looking.

But he could tell exactly what was going on when one boy deliberately tripped another.

The coach hadn't seen it, of course. It was a carefully timed move. Jim didn't bother trying to blow the whistle on him; he knew that wasn't how things were done. Instead he jogged up to the fallen boy and offered him a hand.

For a second, this kid reminded him of Plato. But his hair wasn't as dark or curly... he was thinner, too.

"You OK?"

"Yeah... thanks, Jim."

Jim jogged beside him after that. "How come you know my name?" he asked, his tone accusing, but his expression friendly.

The other boy looked chagrined. "I... heard somebody else say it."

That was no surprise; everyone would probably know his name by the end of the week.

"So, what's your name?"

"Mud, mostly... but really it's Tommy."

Jim giggled. He couldn't help it. It really wasn't funny... but when a person feels as bad as Jim had lately, he needs to laugh. Anything will do. "OK, Tommy Mud. Make sure you watch where you're going, huh? So you don't trip anymore."

"I will."

He saw Judy at lunch. They sat together and ate in silence until Tommy approached their table.

"Hi... would you mind if I sat here?"

Jim looked lazily at Judy. "Should we lettim?"

"I don't mind," Judy said.

"This is Tommy. We met in P. E."

"Nice to meet you, Judy," Tommy said.

Jim looked at Tommy's tray. His chocolate chip cookie was a crumbled mess in its compartment. "What happened there?" he asked, pointing.

"Uh... Mike Albright happened to it. It's no big deal. He always crushes my cookies."

For some reason the wording of that statement cracked Jim up. He couldn't help laughing again, when again, it wasn't really funny.

"You can have mine," Judy offered.

"Nah. It's OK."

A couple of days ago, Judy wouldn't have been so generous. Jim thought she had always wanted to be a nice girl - it had been the company she kept that brought out the less kind side he had met first. He held her hand a moment under the table and went back to eating.

"Can I ask you something?" Tommy asked, keeping his eyes on the ham steak he was cutting up.

"Sure," said Jim.

"How come you were hanging around with John Crawford? John was like me... had to keep his head down." Tommy stole a glance up at them. "Don't you know if you help kids like us, you'll get your head knocked in?"

This time Jim managed to keep the laugh down, but he still smiled. Judy answered before he thought of anything to say.

"Thinking that way never helped anyone. When I was with the popular kids, what happened? My boy friend died."

Tommy looked down again. "I heard about that. I'm really sorry."

"So am I. It was a stupid accident. But Plato... I wish we'd stayed with him every minute. Leaving him alone was the worst thing we could have done."

Jim could hear her voice changing. She was going to cry if she kept on like this. If she cried, he might crack, too. "We're not going to make the same mistakes," he said. "We'll be friends with who we wanna be friends with. And we'll do what we wanna do. I don't see why anyone has to be bothered by us."

Tommy was very different from Plato, but his expression was similar: wonder, admiration with a hint of nervousness. "I wish I could be like that," he said, and it seemed like maybe he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

"You can," said Judy.

"Sure, you can," Jim agreed. "Don't let anyone tell you what you can't do." He leaned over the table. "Just, uh... keep to well-lit areas, huh?"

Tommy smiled a little. He understood. "Yeah."

They finished eating and Tommy pushed away from the table. "Thanks for letting me sit here," he said.

Jim nodded to him and Judy said, "Come again tomorrow."

"Really?"

"Sure," said Jim. "Just—you know—don't tell anyone. Or everyone else will wanna come."

Tommy laughed. "OK. See you tomorrow, then."

They lingered a little longer. Jim wanted to tell Judy not to worry, that Tommy wouldn't end up like Plato. That he wouldn't let Tommy become that important, that he wouldn't become their responsibility. But when he looked over to say something relaxed and cool, he saw her face and completely forgot what he had been going to say.

There were tears standing in her eyes. She was looking right at him, not accusingly, but mournfully. She wanted this kid. She didn't want to replace Plato, but she wanted _something_ to fill the horrible gash where his enthusiasm used to bubble out. She wanted Tommy to be theirs.

Jim silently took her hand again. Whatever she wanted, he wanted it, too. "Come on," he said. "History next, right?"

She nodded. "You remembered."

"I'm getting the hang of this."

They didn't talk about Tommy, or much of anything, the rest of the day. Jim took each class one moment at a time, looking forward to the moment when he could drive Judy home.

* * *

 _So that's my first RWaC fic. Hope you enjoyed. If you want more, let me know. Comprehensive reviews definitely give me motivation to write._


	2. Fremick

_Felt like writing more in spite of lack of feedback. There just aren't enough stories out there for this movie. I changed Judy's last name to Brown because I found out that's what it is in the play adaptation.  
_

* * *

"I think we live too close to school," Judy said.

They were halfway home, and it was the first time either of them had spoken since getting into the car.

Jim nodded and eased up on the gas pedal. He glanced over at Judy briefly and then took her hand on the seat between them.

After a minute, Judy said, "The homework is starting to pile up. I'm already getting behind."

"What's your best subject?" he asked, feeling as if he should already know this. He had known Judy only a few days, but it felt like they had been together a lifetime already.

"Literature," she said. "I'm pretty good in English and History, too, and I do all right in math. What about you?"

"I think I like science the best, but that doesn't mean I'm good at it. Literature is pretty good. And... I do all right in math, too."

"We should study together."

"Yeah, we should."

A car was closing in on them from behind. Jim made sure they had plenty of room to pass him and eventually they did, the driver shouting something unfriendly at him.

"Idiot," said Judy.

"Must be nice," said Jim.

"What do you mean?"

"He's got something he's in a hurry for."

He thought he saw her smile, but he was doing his best to keep his eyes on the road. She did squeeze his hand.

A few minutes later he pulled up in front of her house. He let go of her hand and put his arm across the back of the seat. "Here you are."

"Do you want to come in?"

Jim looked the house over. Yes didn't seem quite like an accurate answer, but no certainly didn't either. He looked back at her and nodded.

Judy had come around the car by the time he was closing his door. She took his hand again and they went to the door together.

Judy's house seemed nice—but like his, it also seemed a little too neat. At Jim's that was understandable because they had not lived there long enough to clutter it up much, but here it felt uncomfortable. It was big and decorated with old and expensive-looking things.

"Is that you, Judy?" said a feminine voice, and soon a middle-aged woman appeared before them. "Oh."

"Mom, this is Jim. He drove me home."

He could tell that Judy's mother had heard a lot about him from the recognition in her eyes, though she quickly covered it. "It's nice to meet you, Jim. Thank you for giving Judy a ride."

"Nice to meet you too, Missus Brown. And it was no trouble," Jim answered. "We live next door."

"Yes, of course. I should have brought something to your mother by now."

"Oh, that's all right. But if you want to, I'm sure she'd like it."

He saw her eyes flick down quickly; they were still holding hands. If he let go now, he would seem guilty.

"Well," Mrs. Brown said, "do you want to come in and sit down...?"

Jim looked at Judy. She looked like she wasn't any more sure than he was of whether it would be a good idea. "I'd better not today," he said, "but thank you. Maybe tomorrow Judy and I can work on our homework together."

She nodded hesitantly. "That would be fine," she said. Her tone didn't seem confident of her words.

"I'd better get home now." Jim gave Judy's hand a final squeeze. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodbye, Jim," said Judy. She opened the door for him, and her expression told him that she wanted to kiss him goodbye, but didn't dare do it in front of her mother.

He gave her a little nod and slid through the narrow opening she had made for him.

It felt silly starting up his car just to drive it a few yards to his own garage, but he did it anyway. But wait... there was a strange car in the driveway.

He pulled up beside the car and looked it over. It was a simple brown sedan, not flashy but probably reliable. What he could see of the interior looked clean. Jim went on into the garage and parked. He came out and looked the car over again, not sure he wanted to go inside and see who the visitor was. He walked around it, finally backing away in the direction of the back door. He might as well face the music.

He decided he shouldn't have been surprised when he saw Officer Ray Fremick in the sitting room with his parents and grandmother. The policeman stood when he entered.

"Hello, Jim."

Jim looked at him and away—and at him and away again. "Hello."

"I thought I'd stop by to see you. How are you?"

Jim opened his mouth to reply, but words didn't come out. He tried to find an answer, but he seemed unable to describe how he felt. He knew Fremick wasn't just asking about his health.

"Go on, Jim," his mother prodded. "Answer him."

"Just a minute, Carol," said his father, Frank. "It's not so simple."

"I'm sorry," said Fremick. "Of course it's not an easy question right now. Jim, I just wanted to remind you that you're still welcome to come by the station if you want to..."

"I did." Jim hadn't really meant to say it; it came out before he even thought about it. No one said anything, so he added, "I came by and you weren't there."

"I'm sorry I missed you. You can always call to see if I'm there; I'll give you my home number as well if you want."

Jim didn't know what he wanted. Did it really matter now? Now that Plato was...

"If you don't," Fremick went on, "I know of a few psychiatrists in the area who might be able to help you."

His mouth twitched. And then there came the laugh he couldn't stop.

"Jim," his grandmother scolded.

"You mean a headshrinker, right?" Jim said. "Plato went to one... he said it was too expensive, so his mom took a vacation instead."

Everyone went stony silent again.

Jim looked Fremick in the eye long enough to ask, "Does she know?"

"Plato's mother?" asked Fremick. "Yes, we notified her. She's coming home tomorrow." He paused. "The funeral will be Monday."

"Jim, won't you sit down with us?" Carol asked, clearly uncomfortable because their guest felt obligated to stand.

Jim didn't want to sit down, but neither did he want to explain why, so he ignored her. "What about his father?"

"We've been unable to locate him. His mother said she hasn't seen him since Plato was very young."

"Didn't he have any letters, or a picture or anything?"

"An officer cleaned out his locker yesterday. There was only one photo, and that turned out to be of Alan Ladd."

"The film star?" Jim found himself chuckling again. "Well, of course. I knew he'd want a picture of his father..."

"Jim," Carol interrupted, "you know that Alan Ladd can't have been his father! Won't you be serious?"

Jim managed to sober. "I only meant... Plato made up stories about his father. Why not pretend he was someone famous?"

"Anyway, there wasn't anything to help us find Mister Crawford," Fremick concluded. "But once his mother has looked through everything, I wouldn't mind if you did too, Jim. Just to see if there's anything you wanted to keep."

It got quiet again. Jim started counting every time he breathed in and out. He blinked several times. "Yeah, maybe," he said at last.

"All right. I'll be in touch, then." Fremick got out a card and pen and wrote a number on the back of the card. "Here. That's my home number on the back."

Jim took the card and shoved it into the pocket of his blazer.

Fremick took a small step closer and put his hand on Jim's shoulder. "Don't forget, you can call or drop by any time."

Words were stupidly difficult to form sometimes—definitely not worth the effort. Jim tipped his chin down slightly and then back up. It would have to do.

"I'll walk you out," Frank said, standing up.

"Dad," Jim said, and he was unable to say more. His voice was dangerously close to cracking already.

"Or... Carol will see you out, won't you, dear?" Frank amended.

Carol stood. "It was good of you to stop by," she said, leading Fremick back toward the front door.

"You could have been a bit more polite," Mrs. Stark said to Jim once Fremick was out of hearing.

"Mother," Frank said, turning to her, "I'm going to have to ask you to be quiet or leave the room."

The matron closed her mouth with a bitter expression.

Frank turned back to him, taking his son gently by the shoulders. "Jimbo? It's going to be all right."

Jim sighed and looked away. Breakdowns were horrible. He didn't want to have another one. Especially not in front of his grandmother.

"Come on, son." Frank led him to the stairs.

Jim marched mechanically. They got all the way to his room, and he didn't remember going there. He sat on his bed and leaned forward, sighing and rubbing his hands together.

Frank sat beside him. "Do you... want to talk about this? Any of it?"

Jim shook his head.

"All right... well... Do you have any homework?"

"Left it at school. I'll catch up over the weekend."

His father was probably less than satisfied with that answer, but he didn't say so. "All right," he said again. "You can stay up here if you want to... I'll get you for dinner." He stood up.

"Dad," Jim said, standing beside him.

Frank turned back and hugged him. Jim closed his eyes and for a moment held on as if his life depended on it. Then he took a deep breath and pulled away. Frank gave him a final pat.

"It'll be all right," Frank said quietly. Then he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Jim sank onto the bed again. He could feel tears forming, even though he was trying hard not to think about anything. He couldn't stop them any more than he could stop the frustrated thoughts from rushing through his mind like an enemy army. _Where were you? I went to the station to talk to you and you weren't there_ — _if you had been, Plato might still be alive!_

A sob escaped, and then the tears made their bid for freedom. Jim put his face in his hands and let them come, one after another after another.

* * *

 _Sorry to leave off on such a depressing note. Leave me some feedback please. :)  
_


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